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500
Chuck Apr 2013
500
My Pirates are at 500
The snow has turned
To a gentle rain

500 record
20 years of losing
Not losing
Not winning
Buccos' 500
Purgatory bliss

I pray for the
Sun to shine!
Hope for 1 game
Over 500
Horrible poem, happy fan! Sorry you had to join me in my celebration of mediocrity.
Chuck Dec 2012
My iPad is almost dead
But I have 13% in my head
It can't be time for bed
The warning light's in the red

No time for perfect rhyme
For meter, patterns in time

     .  .  .  

I erased over half my poem, but with now only 6% remaining and the breath within me draining, the cruel irony is apparent the problems I have are inherent.
In the words of Robert Burns, "The best laid schemes of mice and men .  .  ."  0% remaining!
Chuck Mar 2013
Hello, my name is Chuck
(Hello, Chuck!)
It feels strange
To be here
I've been addicted
My entire life
However, the past three months
Have been a verbal blur
Upon awaking,
I get a fix
Before coffee stimulates
My corpse
To be totally honest
Sometimes
I do it at work
Sleep alludes me
Because
It parties in my veins
At first
My mind was clouded
From peering
Into the eyes
Of the beast
Now, it haunts
My family
Disrupting the harmony
There within
I must
Sleigh the
Monster
Or
At least
Tame it

Hello, I'm Chuck
I'm addicted to
Poetry
(Grinning as I type)
Admitting
There is a
Problem
Is the first step
I keep trippin'!
Upon reflection after a discussion with my family. I love poetry, but I can't let it interfere with my number one love, my family. It's been wonderful the last three months on Hello, but I need to spend less time on my iPad. I will read all of your poems. I just have to control my addiction, so I never have to quit cold turkey! It is your fault! You are all just so **** talented! No, the culpability remains mine alone.
Chuck Aug 2015
I once wrote a poem
About my addiction to poetry
I kicked my addiction
By freebasing life
Now I no longer crave poetry
But I do need a fix
Every now and then
Friends, I'm sorry I don't write or read as much as I use to.
Chuck Feb 2013
Thousands of ants creeping and crawling
Around and over me
Forty floors, no one cares I'm falling
They mean nothing to me

Alone in a group of eleven
I don't play the same game
The odds are against me, not even
But I do know my name

I am usually gregarious
Now, alone with my thoughts
Anonymity not serious
Warm poems in my head, lots
With a group of ten others, mostly strangers who like to gamble, at an Atlantic City Casino this past weekend. I don't gamble! Not a deep poem, but alone in a crowd for three days causes one to be a bit shallow an introspective. Thanks for reading.
Chuck Jan 2014
Icy roads
Frigid temperatures
Witnessed crashes
Drove carefully
Called my wife
To say, "I love you"
Did not pray
Stressed out
But lived
Thank who?
Chuck Jan 2013
A monster lurks inside of me
I try not to pet or feed it
It's best to hide and let it be
To be me, I guess I need it

My monster is honest and curt
It doesn't often try to bite
When it's fangs come out, it can hurt
It never retreats from a fight

Not all have beasts so mean and tough
I want to be loved, it not much
I want to be soft, it is rough
Maybe I'm mean and it's my crutch

I hurt loved ones, telling the truth
Friends and strangers can get bit too
My blunt, true ways have crushed the youth
My monster destroys more than you

I'd slay the monster if I could
It makes me weep, it makes me blue
I, of all people, think I should
I just want to be loved by you
This is a serious issue for me, but I love the juxtaposition when it's read like a children's poem.
Chuck Dec 2013
Angels float in my mind
When I'm in Heaven
Or engaged in Hell
Provide me smirks
In remembrance
And smiles of joy
Foreshadowed
When I'm away from you. I'm not that far away.
Chuck May 2013
Judge me
Laugh at me
Whisper about me
Hate me
Love me
Call me names
I'm doing it to you
We are human
We are animals
Chuck Mar 2013
There was a poet who was lost
His world was covered in grey frost
He poured out his heart
Suffered for his art
He is now found, but at what cost
Chuck Feb 2013
I like apples
I like oranges

Apples are sweet with a crunch
Even when they are ****
The rewards are great
They are filled with nutrition
The skin is even good for the teeth
But every once in awhile
One is spoiled or rotten
Or worse, filled with creepy crawlers
Yet the refreshing burst
Of beneficial flavor is hard to refuse

I love oranges, the color alone
Sunshine in my hand
Puts a smile on my face
Before I even take a bite
When they are sweet
Nothing cold be better
They make my life healthy and happy
However, they, occasionally, can be bitter
Or spoiled or not glow so bright
Yet even at their most sour times
Or when they are not the freshest
I love them more than life itself

So it's obvious to me
Given the choice between the two
It is no contest
My love for oranges is rare

Yet I've been granted a special opportunity
I have been offered a bushel of apples
Though they are tasty
I don't want to only eat them

Apples or oranges?
I can eat the apples and still enjoy
The flavor burst of the oranges
The apples may even help me to
Enjoy the oranges even more
And cherish the time I have to
Nourish my bobby and mind
With their sweet nectar

I like apples
I love oranges
I can enjoy both
Without letting any spoil
With the right proportions

I just won't try to
Eat cake too!
Oranges are my family, and apples is the opportunity to coach track and field this spring. I wanted to weigh it out in a poem. I refuse to neglect my family ad many coaches do. If I have less time with my family, I'll just make it better quality an less time sitting here writing poetry, until they go to bed. Don't worry.
Art
Chuck Aug 2013
Art
Art is discovery
Creativity
Entertainment

It's the stoke of a brush
The wisp of a pen
The sweep of a leg
The peloton in motion
The touch of a key

What is an artist?
One who seeks
Beauty and beyond
Who celebrates
The uncelebrated
Who breaths excitement
Into the ordinary
Chuck Mar 2013
Everything
Dances askew
Friends like you
Are few

Different
Nations abound
Yet we march
To the same
Sound

Everything
Dances askew
People like you
Are few

Different
Lives and skies
Yet we view
The world
Through like
Eyes

Everything
Dances askew
A friendship
Like ours
Is true
Corny but tribute to my friend.
Chuck Feb 2015
I was cursed at
Insulted
Then hit by a car,
Yesterday.
I laughed and
Walked away.
I guess
He really
Wanted that
Parking space.
I realized
My sense of humor
Has grown
Immensely.
Their was a time
This would have
Angered me.
Life is too
Short
To be short
Tempered.
Besides,
That roadrager
Gave me
Something
Priceless,
A story.
Chuck Aug 2013
I ride at dusk
The fresh evening air
Kisses my moistened skin
Shadows dance for me
As I coast through the damp valley
Humor abounds at dusk
For the Earth experiences
Lighthearted confusion
Between day and night
Then, as if a switch was flipped,
Night wins the squabble
My lights guide me safely home
As I smile, filled with wonder,
Visions of the magic
Still glimmering in my mind
I ride at dusk
Chuck Jul 2013
Why are many great poets tortured and tormented?
I'm only distorted by the pain many poets feel.
I'll never be a great poet, thank God!
But, poets, I love your words.
I love you.
Please find a way to love yoursevles!
I weep for the pain you feel.
If I could make you smile,
I would be a happy, average at best, poet.
Chuck Jan 2013
What automobile do you drive?
Is it an old Scion XB?
It's economically sound.
It looks like a toaster on wheels.

The most important question is
What automobile do you drive?
It is better than DNA
To reveal who you truly are.

Do you drive a Mustang so fast
That you can't see us broken-down?
What automobile do you drive?
Some people sure could use a lift.

Does your car cost more than a house?
You splash mud on starving faces.
Cars aren't the "be all to end all."
What automobile do you drive?
First attempt at this form. I never heard of it until a few hours ago. If you drive a nice car, p,ease don't be offended, and may I please hold a few dollars? Haha
Chuck Jan 2013
Young Shepard

Come back home to me, myself
Put ye books back on the shelf
Play with me in the green wheat field
Splash in the stream, tell life to yield


Wise Shepard

O' truth you speak, it is quite grand
I ran and played and breathed the land
You're a fool with flowers and sun
Bills to pay and work to be done


Young Shepard

Blue skies, dream clouds, escape in shapes
Pick apples, eat homemade pies, grapes
Bike hills and valleys, roll in grass
Clouds and life float peacefully past


Wise Shepard

Only if it was possible
To dream I could, I'd be a fool
Beware, retrospect breeds false scope
Family love,  blue skies: life, hope
My first Pastoral Poem. They idealized country life. I grew up in the country. They often have dialogue, so I thought this worked to capture the form and content of a Marlowe and Raleigh type of Pastoral. I hope you enjoy.
Chuck Mar 2013
I once read an essay that made perfect sense
It gave an alternative to cure expense

It was a proposal that was quite modest
I wish I'd have thought of it, to be honest

It was from the early eighteenth century
It would empty the full penitentiary

Babies are free until they are at least one
Then they are fat, tender, and ripe in the sun

Parents can sell them to the politicians
They will use them as part of their nutrition

It is a win for everyone, you can tell
After all, we're already going to Hell

Sell the babies for politicians to eat
Use the money for a superfluous treat

We should kindly thank Mr. Jonathan Swift
For solving all our problems with this great gift
Upon rereading Jonathan Swift's satire, "A Modest Proposal."
Chuck Mar 2013
(RING)

There are nasty rumors about you two!

"None of it is true!"

You know I believe you.

"I'd expect you to kick my ****, too!"

That's exactly what I would do!

Just make sure this plutonic relationship is through!


(FOUR MONTHS LATER)

Meeting, heart attack, rumors again!

Believing he will tell me, he didn't descend.

Planned a visit to see my sick friend.

Then, I learned the facts that truly offend.

Could not go, I do not pretend!

Thought to myself, this will be his end.


(NEXT DAY...RING)

"Your old friend is dead....

He shot himself in the head!"

I was afraid this would be said.

This was a community he once lead.

He, himself, cut the last thread.


(REACTION)

You *******!

You *******!

You took the easy way out, tossed everyone else in a ditch!


(REFLECTION)

This betrayal of a community left so much dread.

It left a once loved man, dead,

And a young lady, who will never be right in the head!


(BETRAYAL)

You betrayed all who put you on a shelf.

But most of all, you betrayed yourself.
This is based on true life events. It has been three years, and I'm finally forcing myself to deal with it in writing. I used the silly rhyme scheme just to make it tolerable to me. Not great poetry, more like therapy.  Thanks for sharing this with me. Send me the bill. Haha
Chuck Jan 2013
Last night I dreamed of bichons! There were bichons everywhere!
They were sleeping on my rug; they were licking my hair!
They were running on my head;
They were sitting on my bed!
They were on the roof and floor. They were on the chandeliers!
They were hiding in the covers; they were barking in my ears!
There were bichons, bichONS, BICHONS for as far as I could see!
And when I woke up this morning...there were bichons on top of me!
Morgan is my daughter. She wants to say that this is dedicated to our bichon, Daisy.
Chuck Jun 2013
Turn a man
into a helpless
yet adorable infant
- illness
Chuck Apr 2014
I guess an old bicycle is like an old wife
they both get tired and worn
and they both lose their luster

                   Wait!
I could never toss out of my old bike
I guess they are not similar at all!
Just joking, honey.
Chuck Jun 2013
In the stillness of a grey day
And the rattle and hum of a clothes dryer
Subtle but distinct tweets and calls harken
From an open window wafting fresh air
They summon me out of the mystical fog
Of a mundane useless existence
The insipid chants beckon me to fly
Through the haze and humidity
From humility  To a place life exudes
Nature with its songs for dance and love

When existence is humdrum
And life is passing by
Open a door and fly
Chuck May 2013
If
the world
appears too frightening
Close your intelligent eyes
Chuck Mar 2013
IPhone in the sky
Glowing blue background
Long battery life!
Chuck Feb 2013
I am at at the bottom of the ocean
Baffled how I am still breathing
Wondering how I transcended
Viewing the world with 20 thousand leagues
Of liquid obstruction to distort my view
I am at the bottom of the ocean
The world does not pause
No one will toss me a line
It is my choice
Surrender to this aquatic haze
And possibly drown
Or belligerently swim to normalcy
The saltwater clouds my mind  
I am at the bottom of the ocean
I read this to a realist. She said, "Yea, you're tired." Oh' to view the world as a realist.
Chuck Oct 2013
When the day is dark, sleep, blink, read poetry - breathe!
Chuck Oct 2013
When the day is dark, sleep, blink, read poetry - breathe!
Chuck Mar 2013
B
R
E
V
I
T
Y

Is bliss!
Yes?
Some people think short poems aren't poetry. I disagree, but this is kind of a cop out.
Chuck Jun 2013
Gorgeous blue skies
Disneyland magic
World of Color
Pacific cruisin'
Beverly Hills bravado
Venice Beach eccentrics
Celebrities' celestial abodes
California Screamin'
Yet it's for you I'm dreamin'
To my friends on HP. Enjoying my family vacation but missing your poetry! Cal Screamin' is a great roller coaster. Ride it if you get to So Cal.
Chuck Nov 2013
Too young to suffer and die
Perfect age to cry
Sorry sad for 10 w Tuesday!
Chuck Jun 2014
Blue ridges rolling
To picturesque blue skies and
Islands laced in sand
#haiku #carolina
Chuck Apr 2013
Cat fight, cat fight
Meow, meow
Cat fight, cat fight
On the prow

Can't hide from the scratches
Can't have them declawed
They fight in batches
The can't be outlawed

Cat fight, cat fight
Meow, meow
Cat fight, cat fight
On the prow
This is a children's poem. I think kids can enjoy it, and kids of all ages play this game. I know the term cat fight is derogatory, but I am angered by the fact that even women on this sight fight with each other in poetry. I was asked to remove a like from a woman's poem because another woman, who I don't even know, thought it was about her. I did this time, but I don't like being censored! This poem is about all people who put personal Narcism before freedom of expression. I took the poem as a general theme not about an individual. This is a general theme, just inspired by you. Sorry, all. I sharpened my claws. Haha
Chuck Jan 2013
As if I am the famous Manti Te'o
I don't need to see your true face
Loving you! Though you, I don't know

Just tell me were to go
My heart will meet you in cyberspace
As if I am the famous Manti Te'o

Your true face, no need to show
It's the thought of love that I chase
Loving you! Though you, I don't know

You might be a catfish to my woe
But your texts are full of love and grace
As if I am the famous Manti Te'o

Let your secret emails flow
You might be from some other place
Loving you! Though you, I don't know

Love is blind, when you don't show
Today, weird cyber love is commonplace
As if I am the famous Manti Te'o
Loving you! Though you, I don't know
This was my first Villanelle. It is the form of Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle . . ." I love that poem. This is a silly topic I've been dying to write about. My next villanelle will be serious. Try this form. It is fun.
Chuck Sep 2013
Golden Retriever puppy kisses
Doughnuts with hot chocolate
Making love in a field of flowers
A found twenty in an old pair of jeans
A hug from a beautiful stranger for no reason at all
Life is euphoria occasionally, celebrate the treasures
My last poem was a rear bad mood for me. I wanted a poem that is more accurate to my life right now.
Chuck Mar 2013
I am a cereal killer
Devouring Life is a thriller

Snap, crackle, and pop
I make the flakes drop

Stalking salubrious crunch
Murdered for breakfast and lunch

My appetite for Trix is voracious
For my Lucky Charms, I am gracious

Mud & Bugs haunt my soul
Desecrating Grape-Nuts whole

Yea, I'm Nut n' Honey and Cocoa Hoots
Krispy Kritter Krave Fruit Loops

I'm a cereal killer
Yet a community pillar

Can't comprehend why it's a crime
Unrepentant, I'll massacre cereal every time
I asked my son what I should write about. He said cereal killer, so this is what he got. I never understood why it's a crime. Haha The words in capitals are names of cereal, as if you didn't know. Thanks for reading my silly poem!
Chuck Mar 2013
Some people's career
Others' human connection
Others' addiction
Chuck Jan 2013
O' elder Oak, how thou growest so old?
What ancient yarns thou could spin from each limb.
Wars, drought, what visions thine gray bark doth hold.

Ole Pennsylvanian wood, were thou sewn by him
Whose king's debt owed, founded this sovereign land.
Thine story hath gravid weight, not a tale told grim.

As a youth, thou were a knight's castle grand
Or a dark dragon with fiery breath.
High in thee boughs, thy mastered the farmland.

As years passed and our kinship reached its breadth,
Thy cannot help but to lament the time
That thou spied on thy joyous play. Now thy death
Looms long. To Heaven thine branches doth climb.
This is my first Terza rima. I chose to write about an ole friend in an ole form of English.  Thanks for reading. Please give constructive criticism.
Chuck Jun 2013
Threads
Permeating
The
Souls
Of
The
Lost
And
Confused
Seem
To
Extend
To
An
Identical
Or­igination

Childhood

Parents
Tie
The
Threads
With
Love
Understan­ding
Compassion
Attention
Education
And
Discipline

The family knot
Can help protect
These souls against
The ills and evils
Of life

Loose
Threads
Can
Trip
Or
Even
Strangle
Chuck Jan 2013
Piper
Best bro I've had
Sweet, black Goldendoodle
Respect, laid back philosopher
Cool dog
Slang fits him somehow.
Chuck Feb 2013
The chiropractor
Manipulates my weak spine
Like you do to me
Chuck Mar 2014
My wife I'll love, for years to come
But if she would ever pass or leave me
I'll audition a new love, no three
I'll challenge the ladies to a game of fun

I'll make my own game of "Chopped"
They'll cook, I'll taste and evaluate
I must chop one, I won't hesitate
From three to two, they'll be cropped

I have a sophisticated palette or taste
Burgers, pizza, steaks, potatoes sweet
Chefs are ecstatic, pleasant, and neat
Yet I need to stay slender in the waste

Who am I trying to fool or trick
Women won't compete to feed me
If I want to eat, there is one solution I see
"You will have to make a phone call, Slick"

             I've "been chopped!"
Watching the cooking show Chopped with the fam. Just felt like writing a silly rhyme.
Chuck Dec 2013
Merry Christmas to all who know
What it's like for Santa not to show
He dropped in on the neighbors
Brought the greedy rich kids favors
I'd like to tell that elf where to go

Merry Christmas to all who live
With a family two ***** they can't give
And to those who have no one
It's really tough for festive family fun
Instead of cheer you get a shiv

Merry  Christmas to all who sin
Because you don't pay a religion
Gifts are still nice to give and receive
Even if in Christ you don't believe
The cash register is where it all begins

Merry Christmas to all who ****
About you, I don't give a .....
You can choke on your gifts and die
You cheat, still, spit, and lie
Anything for a lousy, greedy buck

Merry Christmas to all who hear
This and scorn my humbug jeer
You know you'd may feel this way too
If friends and Santa forgot about you
Would you join me in a cup of cheer?

Please.....
Chuck Jul 2013
Chuck it out the window
Hide it
Under the seat
Change the cd before we're caught
Kicking it to Milli Vanilli
Amanda Nicole's Poetry Challenge 1: first name acrostic that can't be about you or your name.
Chuck Jun 2014
Such a place exists, I kid you not
It's a paradise deep in the SC
I imagine it was named just for me
The buildings are exquisitely adorned
Row after Rainbow Row, stunning, the lot
Drenched in history of two wars
Ghosts haunt the Holy City at night
May haunt it myself when the time is right
Fresh seafood to honest Southern soul
The delicacies are among its many lures
Chuck Town may be my Eldorado
Not mythical but shrouded in golden treasures
I couldn't dream up a more idealistic setting
It's as if it were erected and named for me
Chuck Nov 2013
Civilian soldier
Fighting for people's rights
He's a bleeding heart
A liberal lover
He's a master poet
My beer lovin brother
For you, Rick, with much respect and deep regards.
Chuck Feb 2014
The less I cry
The more you listen
When I pause
You gasp in suspense
I whisper goodnight
Your dreams scream my name
I remain silent
You idealize my thoughts
Silence is bliss
It make you clamorous
Chuck Jan 2013
Do not utter a syllable
For the reaper lurks at the door
Dim the lights as our eyes are widened  
Sit in a desperate, huddled mass
Feel the shivering, helpless creature on the left
Hear my traitorous lungs exhaling, surrendering my position
My heart pounding, screaming at my body
Ordering me to run, to fight, to ****
"Do not go gentle into that good night,"
As Dylan Thomas so elegantly stated
Yet it is not a time for romantic visions of heroism
Beowulf's idealism will not save us here
Sobbing, shivering, ***** stained American Eagle
Sweat drenched Under Amour Tees and hoodies
Feet ironically quivering in red and orange Nike Shocks
A 243 pound lineman blubbering under his breath
He wants his mother, his daddy, his pillow, to go home
Another boy, Darrel, clenches his fists, readies for attack
Cassidy sits silently, emotionless, statuesque, frozen in time
And I . . . What do I do? . . . What do I do?
Do I flinch like Sir Gawain in the face of death?
Or do I . . . . . . What do I do?
God, may I never discover the answer to this evil query
God help us stop the violence consuming innocent children
Render CODE RED obsolete
Yet, CODE RED will parish not
For society feeds on fictional fame
Fifteen minutes that Warhol never could have painted
Now it will be duplicated like so many Campbell's Soup cans
CODE RED    CODE RED    CODE RED   CODE RED  
And . . . What will I do?
What will I do?
Upon practicing safety drills in a high school
Chuck Mar 2014
She is the Queen of the coffee shop
Watching over her kingdom in triumph
Yet, behold, the empty dais
The star on her crown glimmers little
In the vacuous suffocation of silence
Clink and clang from the servant's quarters
Is the only sound besides the jesting
Of new wave hauntings and jazz renditions
A once vibrant kingdom depressed in
Melancholy achings
Yet the smile on her black lips,
Frozen from a time of prosperity
The coffee shop poet is beguiled
And joins the queen in her silent musing
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